


down by the water

by radiosience



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, I'm So Soft For These Two, Not a lot of dialogue, also the actual thing isnt in lowercase lol, sort of??, this is just Soft and short, this takes place before the quarter quell reaping, yes its 2019 and im writing thg fanfiction what about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 10:43:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20308183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiosience/pseuds/radiosience
Summary: ''when finnick was younger, a hurricane swept through district four. looking back at it now, he doesn’t remember much from the hurricane; it was blurry, loud and messy. what he does remember well, however, is the haunting silence from right before the wave hit. how he came out to the beach, all those years ago, and watched the waves, and didn’t believe that this silent, tranquil place would soon become the backdrop for death and destruction. it was quiet and peaceful. he couldn’t imagine anything bad possibly happening.that’s what it feels like now. at this beach, staring out the sea, with annie by his side - it would be an ideal night under different circumstances. if he weren’t this scared. if he weren’t here only because he woke from a nightmare to find an empty bed, and completely panicked, and decided to find annie and try to provide any comfort he could - as much to her as to himself.''or, the night before the reaping for the quarter quell, finnick and annie sit on the beach, reflect and try to forget.





	down by the water

**Author's Note:**

> i watched catching fire and mockingjay pt 1 and had to get these two out of my system

‘’Couldn’t sleep?’’

She turns her head and sees him. She smiles softly, as much as she can manage when she is overpowered by dread and helplessness, has been overpowered by it for weeks.

He sits down on the damp sand next to her and looks out at the sea, following her gaze. It’s eerily quiet. There’s comfort in it, though - in the previous weeks, he had imagined this night would be a lot more screaming and crying and anger, both on his and Annie’s part, but so far it’s been calm, almost peaceful.

When Finnick was younger, a hurricane swept through District Four and District Seven. Natural disasters are rare nowadays; he vaguely remembers being taught at school about how the Earth’s climate changed because of the nuclear bombings in the Dark Days, and how it had eradicated the previously commonplace massive waves called tsunamis, window-shattering earthquakes, extreme wind currents known as tornadoes. But it happened, when he was eight. The wind was stronger than usual, lightning brighter and louder than anything he’d experienced before. An enormous wave crept up and flooded the district, swept or at least caused severe damage to most houses, claiming victims without mercy. Looking back at it now, he doesn’t remember much from the hurricane; it was blurry, loud and messy, with his parents and brother and neighbours and friends and himself screaming, everyone in their town trying to save their most prized possessions and loved ones and themselves. What he does remember well, however, is the haunting silence from right before the wave hit. How immune everyone felt to the waves, how all of them underestimated its force and how much it would impact them for years to come, how everyone was assured that they, of all people, wouldn’t be affected by it. How he came out to the beach, all those years ago, and watched the waves, and didn’t believe that this silent, tranquil place would soon become the backdrop for death and destruction. It was quiet and peaceful. He couldn’t imagine anything bad possibly happening.

That’s what it feels like now. At this beach, staring out the sea, with Annie by his side - it would be an ideal night under different circumstances. If he weren’t this scared. If he weren’t here only because he woke from a nightmare to find an empty bed, and completely panicked, and decided to find Annie and try to provide any comfort he could - as much to her as to himself. 

If it weren’t the night before the worst weeks of his life, the ones that have been haunting him every night for over 10 years, could become a reality once more. Before he would be forced to relive what had broken him, had broken his parents and brother and friends, had made everyone terrified or attracted to him, sometimes both. What had broken Annie and so many of the other Victors. If it weren’t the night before the reaping, again.

He’s not fourteen anymore. He’s twenty-four - an adult, one who’s been promised to never have to be in the Games ever again. But he could as well be twelve again, before his first reaping. Unsure of what awaits, feeling not as much terror or anger as paralysing emptiness. Only now, he has Annie to worry about, too.

He isn’t sure how he will cope with coming back to the arena if it really comes to it. He’ll probably push through it with a smile, playing the part the Capitol had set up for him all those years ago, as he had been dealing with the things thrown at him since that reaping day when he was fourteen. 

But he knows Annie can’t just ‘’push through it’’ - she’s far too honest, far too gentle. She never gave into becoming what the Capitol wanted her to be, and she’s never been particularly good at pretending. She never saw the need to be someone she isn’t just for the public, just so that the crowds could be satisfied and gush over her. Finnick has often wished he were like her; so honest, so impossible to force into doing something he didn’t wish to do. Brave enough to stand up for himself and tell them no, straight to their faces, unafraid of the consequences. He wishes he were like her. Instead, he has spent years trying to protect those he loved by betraying himself and submitting to things he never wanted to do, more often than not being unable to grant the security of his loved ones anyway. Security feels like something so distant he’s almost sure it can’t exist; he can’t remember the last time he felt safe. Not since he was 12 and entered his first reaping. Definitely not since his name was called out when he was just 14. He hasn’t felt anything close to safety in over a decade.

‘’You couldn’t sleep either,’’ she says, breaking the silence. Even though her voice is nothing more than a whisper, it rings out to sound impossibly loud on the beach, empty save for Annie and Finnick, perfect silence only disrupted by the ambience of the waves gently hitting the sand. Her tone isn’t accusatory; she’s merely stating a fact. They both can’t sleep; they haven’t been able to sleep for years now. 

Sitting on the beach in the middle of the night because one of them woke up to an empty bed has become a routine ever since they moved in together. It was usually Finnick, not Annie, who would wake up first and leave to take a walk. The Victors’ Village was just beside the beach where he grew up, and it provided a sense of comfort, however temporary. The first time it happened, Annie somehow found her way to the beach in the early hours of the morning and held him as he cried into her shirt about the nightmare he’d just had, about the nightmares he’s been having for years.

Finnick looks at Annie. She’s still staring intently into the sea, her red hair swept by the gentle breeze. He reaches out and tucks one strand of hair behind her ear. She shifts her gaze from the ocean onto him, once again giving him a soft smile. He smiles back at her, mustering up all the gentleness he has left in him. 

For the past weeks, since the Quarter Quell was announced, he’s gone through so many emotions. Anger; no, not anger, pure rage. Fear, terror, panic. Aggression. Sadness. He has been feeling so much, so intensely, that he only feels hollowed out now. Feeling anything has become difficult, but being here, at the peaceful beach, with Annie, he feels a certain softness. It can’t be called happiness, exactly; that’s something he hasn’t felt in years, but with Annie, he always feels like a better, more deserving person than he suspects he truly is.

‘’I couldn’t. Woke up, you weren’t there, so I came to see you,’’ he says simply, not taking his eyes off of her. She absentmindedly gazes towards the water and shifts so that she’s resting her head on his shoulder. He shifts, too, to be in a position that would be more comfortable for her, and puts an arm around her shoulders. They sit for a moment, watching the District Four ocean, comfortable silence between them.

‘’What if we both get reaped?’’ she finally says, voice hushed. He wants to say something, anything that would be of comfort to Annie, but he finds himself at a loss. _What if we both end up on the arena and only one of us can make it out alive._ He finds himself shivering at the thought that’s been haunting him for weeks being said out loud, hanging in the chilly air between them.

He wants to believe they’d both make it out alive, but he knows that’s impossible. The Capitol wouldn’t repeat last year’s mistake, and Annie isn’t stupid; she has to know that, too. He would never let anything happen to her, and the choice between saving her and himself was obvious to him, as natural as sleeping and breathing were. But he knows it’s the same for her; he’s known her for too long to fool himself she’d have any doubts whether to choose him over herself. He knows, too, how miserable he’d be without her, and that she’d be just as miserable without him. There’s no way around it; they need each other in the most base way a human can rely on something to stay alive.

‘’I don’t know,’’ he finally whispers back. ‘’I don’t know.’’

He keeps stroking her hair, and she leans into him, closing her eyes, listening to the waves and his breath, feeling his heartbeat, steady under his thin shirt, and almost forgets about what she - what they both - will have to face once the sun rises.

**Author's Note:**

> i can't believe i'm writing het hunger games fics in the year of our lord 2019 yet here we are  
hope u enjoyed and that the grammar wasn't atrocious i wrote this at 10pm and edited it at 7am the following day  
kudos and comments always appreciated thank u for reading  
catch me on social media - twitter and curiouscat: radiosience
> 
> \- max


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